The Shadows We Face

The palace courtyard had never felt so suffocating.

The sky above was a perfect shade of blue, with the sun casting golden light over the assembled heirs, but there was an unmistakable tension in the air—one that turned even the warmth of the morning into something cold and unforgiving.

The queen's decree had been clear: The trials would determine the next ruler, and the first was about to begin.

I stood among the twelve other heirs, shifting uncomfortably under the weight of their collective gazes. Some were watching me with open disdain, others with amusement, and a select few—like Elara—gave me small, reassuring nods.

Valtor, of course, looked as composed as ever. He stood at the front, his posture straight, his eyes fixed on the royal steward, who had just stepped forward to address us.

"Today marks the beginning of the second trial," the steward announced, his voice carrying through the courtyard. "These tests will determine not only your intelligence and strength but also your ability to lead. This trial is a test of strategy, resourcefulness, and wit."

I perked up at that. Finally, a trial where I wasn't expected to swing a sword around like a trained warrior.

The steward continued. "In the forest beyond the palace walls, we have hidden a series of royal crests—one for each of you. Your task is to retrieve your crest and return before sundown. The trial does not end until every crest has been found... or until you yield."

A scavenger hunt? I could do a scavenger hunt.

I glanced at Elara, who seemed deep in thought, and then at Valtor, who simply smirked. "Interesting," he murmured. "Let's see how well the priest fares in the wild."

I scoffed. "Oh, I don't know, Valtor. I think I'll do just fine. After all, I've spent years tracking down rare scrolls in the most obscure corners of the Priesthood's archives. How hard could a little forest be?"

He chuckled, a dark amusement flickering in his gaze. "You'll find out soon enough."

The steward raised his hand, silencing the murmurs among the heirs. "Each of you will be given a starting point within the forest. The crests are hidden well, and the path will not be easy. You may work alone or form temporary alliances, but in the end, only one of you can claim victory."

Temporary alliances, eh? I cast another glance at Elara, who met my gaze with a knowing smile.

A horn sounded. The trial had begun.

_____

The moment I stepped into the forest, the atmosphere shifted. The towering trees swallowed the sunlight, casting long shadows over the mossy ground. The air smelled of damp earth and pine, and the distant chirping of birds made it clear that, out here, the palace was nothing but a distant memory.

I took a deep breath, scanning my surroundings. If I were a royal crest, where would I be?

"Probably somewhere incredibly inconvenient," I muttered to myself.

I moved carefully through the underbrush, my boots crunching softly against fallen leaves. It didn't take long for the sounds of the other heirs to fade, each of them setting off in different directions.

I didn't rush. Strategy, resourcefulness, and wit—these were my strengths, and I intended to use them.

After about fifteen minutes of walking, I found a small stream cutting through the trees. Water. If I were hiding something valuable, I might choose a spot near a natural landmark.

I knelt by the bank, running my fingers through the cool water. No sign of a crest, but there were footprints—recent ones. Someone else had been here.

Before I could investigate further, a rustling sound came from the trees behind me. I froze.

Then—

"Relax, Aric. It's just me."

I turned to find Elara stepping into view, her auburn hair tied back, a playful smirk on her lips.

"You're not here to steal my crest, are you?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

She laughed. "No. I was hoping we could work together, at least for a little while. Two minds are better than one, don't you think?"

Considering my alternative was wandering around aimlessly while hoping I didn't get ambushed by a particularly aggressive prince, I figured it wasn't a bad idea.

"Alright, Elara," I said, grinning. "Let's find these crests before Valtor decides to declare himself king of the forest."

She chuckled. "You know he's probably already doing that."

_____

The search continued, and with Elara's help, I found myself covering more ground than I would have alone. We moved carefully, checking hollow logs, beneath rocks, even inside the knotted roots of ancient trees.

"So," Elara said as we walked, "any grand plans for what you'll do if you win this trial?"

I snorted. "Survive."

She laughed. "That's a good start."

"What about you?" I asked. "You don't seem as obsessed with the throne as the others."

Elara hesitated, her expression turning thoughtful. "I believe in the queen's vision. I think Valerya needs a ruler who understands more than just politics and power. Someone who actually cares."

I studied her for a moment. There was something genuine in her words, something that made me trust her even more.

Before I could respond, a sharp rustling in the bushes made us both stop.

We turned, and—

"Looking for something?"

I barely stopped myself from groaning. Valtor stepped into view, his usual smirk firmly in place. His dark eyes flicked between Elara and me, clearly amused.

I sighed. "Oh, wonderful. My favorite rival has arrived."

Valtor tilted his head. "I was hoping to find my crest, but instead, I find you two scheming in the woods. Should I be worried?"

I crossed my arms. "That depends. Should we be worried that you're going to try to duel us for our crests?"

He laughed. "Tempting. But no. I'd rather win on my own merits."

I gave him a mock gasp. "Valtor, did you just admit to having honor? I'm shocked."

He rolled his eyes. "Believe it or not, Aric, I don't need tricks to win."

Elara stepped forward. "So what now? Are we going to fight, or are you just here to chat?"

Valtor smirked. "Neither. I've already found my crest."

Elara and I exchanged glances. If Valtor had his, that meant there were fewer left to find.

"Well, congratulations," I said. "But if you'll excuse us, we still have ours to track down."

Valtor didn't move. He studied me for a moment, something unreadable in his expression. Then, finally, he smirked again.

"Good luck, priest," he said before turning and disappearing into the trees.

I let out a breath.

Elara nudged me. "That was... interesting."

I nodded. There was something about Valtor's tone, the way he looked at me, that unsettled me.

But I had no time to dwell on it. The trial wasn't over yet.

And I wasn't about to let Valtor—or anyone else—win this without a fight.

_____

The air in the forest thickened, crackling with an unnatural energy that made my skin prickle. Something was wrong.

We had been searching for the crest, pushing through tangled undergrowth, when the Queen's "surprise" revealed itself.

A cold whisper slithered through the trees, and then—shadows moved.

The wraiths emerged without warning, their twisted forms flickering between states of existence. Their bodies weren't solid, weren't quite mist either. They shifted, pulsed, as if the darkness itself had given them life. And their eyes—eerie and glowing blue—locked onto us like a predator finding prey.

There was no announcement. No indication that this was the test we were meant to face. No overseers. No safeguards.

Just silence.

Then the Wraiths attacked.

Valtor reacted first. Of course, he did.

A blade of wind sliced through the nearest wraith, cutting it in two. The pieces hung for a moment before reforming, the creature reshaping itself as if nothing had happened.

"Damn it," he snarled, adjusting his stance. "They reconstruct."

"Then we break them apart faster than they can recover." Lucian's voice was steady, but there was an edge to it—a warning. His claymore cleaved through another wraith, sending out a concussive wave that cracked the nearest trees. The force of the strike sent the wraith staggering, its shape flickering.

Elara followed suit, leaping onto a low branch and nocking an arrow. Frost swirled around her fingertips, coalescing into jagged ice along the arrow's tip. She fired, striking a wraith directly in its chest. Ice spread rapidly from the impact, freezing its core—at least temporarily.

A sharp whistle split the air. "Heads up!"

Lightning arced from the treetops as Seraph flung a crackling spear of pure electricity. It slammed into a wraith, sending bolts of energy dancing through its shifting form. The creature convulsed, its glowing eyes flaring brighter before it collapsed into smoke.

One down. But more kept coming.

Herold stepped forward, a lazy smirk on his lips despite the chaos. "Let's make things interesting." He flicked his wrist, and suddenly, there were two of him. Then four. Then eight.

Illusions.

The wraiths hesitated, their glowing eyes flickering in confusion. They struck at the clones, their claws passing through empty air.

Rhea didn't wait for an opening. Metal shards swirled around her, forming a deadly storm as she lunged into battle. She moved with the precision of a duelist, her sword striking in sharp, calculated arcs. Each attack was accompanied by a surge of metallic energy, sending razor-edged projectiles slicing through the wraiths.

Dairus, massive and armored, was less about finesse and more about sheer force. His hammer crashed into the ground, sending a shockwave that rippled outward. The earth shook, knocking several wraiths off balance.

We were winning.

Or so I thought.

Something was wrong...

I had been holding back, studying the wraiths' patterns, searching for weaknesses. My fingers hovered over the hilt of my staff, but I didn't draw it yet. My magic—light and darkness—was unpredictable. If I lost control, I could just as easily harm the others as help them.

But then—

Dairus let out a sharp, pained cry.

I turned just in time to see him thrown back—his massive frame slamming into a tree with a sickening crack. He didn't get up.

Then, Rhea, poised and deadly just seconds ago, let out a gasp as dark claws raked across her leg. She stumbled, barely catching herself.

Another heir went down. Then another.

Lucian faltered, gripping his side as blood dripped between his fingers.

Seraph, usually untouchable with his speed, was blindsided—electric sparks sputtering as he collapsed to one knee.

One by one, they were being picked off!

I turned toward the ridge where the game masters were supposed to be overseeing the trial. Where they should have been watching, ensuring this test remained just that—a test.

But they were gone.

A pit opened in my stomach.

“Elara—” I called out, my voice breaking with fear and desperation.

She gasped—a sharp, guttural sound—as the blade sliced across her side. Blood bloomed, dark and immediate, staining her clothes and the ground beneath her. Her knees gave out, and she staggered forward, catching herself just before she collapsed. Dark veins spiderwebbed from the wound, pulsing with unnatural energy, crawling up her ribs like a living curse.

Something inside me snapped. Not gently. Not gradually. It shattered. A dam broke inside me, and power—raw, untamed, furious—rushed in to fill the void. It wasn’t just magic. It was rage. Grief. Terror. The helplessness I thought I’d buried long ago. And it came flooding out.

Heat and cold surged in equal measure, clashing like twin storms warring for control. My chest felt like it would split in two. From my right hand, light erupted—blinding, golden, searing through the night like dawn made flesh. From my left, darkness oozed—inky tendrils coiling and twisting like smoke, swallowing the air.

The wraiths paused. Not in confusion. In fear. They felt it—this wasn’t magic, they knew. This wasn’t a power they could face. This was something else. Something worse.

I didn’t hesitate. I couldn’t. A pulse tore free from me—a shockwave of light and shadow interwoven, spinning outward like a star collapsing in on itself. The earth trembled. The wind howled. The clearing became a storm.

Light lanced through the darkness. Shadows writhed like beasts dragged from the abyss. The wraiths screamed—horrid, high-pitched shrieks that split the air. They tried to run. They didn’t make it. Darkness devoured. Light consumed. And silence fell.

Ash drifted where the wraiths had stood. The battlefield was scorched, the grass blackened, the trees groaning as if in mourning. The others were frozen in place. Some stared in disbelief. Others with horror. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.

Elara was still on her knees, hand pressed to her side, blood seeping through her fingers. Her breath was ragged, but she looked up at me, her voice barely a whisper. “Aric… I’m okay…”

Relief warred with the emptiness consuming me. The storm faded, drawn back into the corners of my soul. My hands trembled. My vision blurred. Every muscle screamed with exhaustion. I felt hollow, burned out from the inside. My legs gave out. The sky tilted above me. The trees spun. Voices called out, muffled and distant.

Then, one voice broke through. Low. Rough. Uncharacteristically soft. “You’re a fool, Aric,” Valtor said. And then—nothing.